


assess the situation

by redlight



Series: not safe for space (voltron nsfw week 2017) [4]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Accidental Bondage, Awkward Sexual Situations, Bruise kink?, Bruises, Humor, M/M, Masochism, Masochist Lance, Mild Smut, Mildly Dubious Consent, Pain Kink, Size Kink, Stream of Consciousness, Stuck in a wall, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Voltron NSFW Week 2017, bc lance wtf, except its not a wall it's a ceiling, just a bit, lance is whiny and hotheaded, shiro is scared of arachnids
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2018-12-23 09:25:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11986935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redlight/pseuds/redlight
Summary: Lance is stuck, Shiro tries to help, and hopefully this is all just some weird, perverted dream, 'cause Lancereallycan't handle this right now.Voltron NSFW Week, day 5 prompt "tricks and traps."





	1. killed the cat

**Author's Note:**

> oh my god this is. SO many different shades of mess  
> (dont read if you know me irl i'll fight you i don't care care if im 5'1" and that you're probs taller than me i s2g sqUARE UP TALLASS)
> 
> anyway so. this is ridiculous. there was gonna be more, and like actual smut, but y i k e s i couldn't take myself seriously sorry lol. let me know if i need to add any tags?

_“Shiro_! Shiro-Shiro- _Shiro_ , get _over_ here! C’mon, help me out!”

Okay, so this is kind of a mess.

Lance tries to wiggle his hips out, but, uh, no, he’s definitely stuck?

Capital S, italicized, registered trademark _Stuck_ ™.

Yikes.

Okay, so – he was just trying to climb through the abandoned Galra ship, okay? The mission was to, well, raid the thing for supplies and information. Pidge scanned it and it showed no living biological signatures, and Allura mentioned that the model of spacecraft was relatively different from what they currently face up against – not as early as the ships Allura remembered from 10,000 years ago, though.

And, and, _alright_ , so the plan was for Lance and Shiro to search through the ship and locate something useful. Mostly on the information side, because medicine and rations are probably shot by now. Also, ‘cause the team’s been getting kind of _restless_. It's been weeks without a real battle and they've been busy with diplomatic matters, which can be fun – talking to people, see up close the people whom Voltron has helped...But Lance needs to stretch his legs, y’know?

...But, uh, maybe he stretched his legs out too far in this one.

There was a hole in the ceiling, right? It was leading to the above floor – and, like, the edges were gleaming shiny silver, or, at least, a silvery color, probably not _actual_ silver ‘cause who knows what kinda alien materials the Galra use on their warships – and the silver was _weird_ , okay? Usually the Galra are a _total_ stickler for their common color scheme – the real definition of _aesthetic ho_ , seriously.

Anyway, so Lance noticed something different and Lance is also a little too curious – as evident by his Mamá lecturing him about it way too often. That whole “ _curiosity killed the cat_ ” spiel and Lance getting his ears tugged on whenever he replied  _but Curiosity was a rover on Mars_ –

Well, there were these _crates_ lined up all conveniently in the hall! Weren't filled with anything they could use – old Galra ammunition, mostly, and also one particular rations crate that was _crawling_ with alien bugs that looked like _extra bristly scorpions_ , glowing a bright chartreuse – which, just, _oh my god no._ Lance just wanted to see what the shiny thing was, okay?

So he stacked some boxes up, climbed to the top – alien scorpions and ancient sci-fi bullets are surprisingly sturdy stuff, or maybe it's just the strength of the heavy duty cargo crates. But yeah, Lance reached the top of the not-so ceiling, and tried to climb through the hole.

This...yeah, this doesn't end well, Lance knows it deep in his dead-curious-cat heart, and now –

Well, now he's yelling into his comms, calling for Shiro to come back and _help out_ from wherever he went off to explore.

Lance huffs into his helmet, narrowing his eyes at the surrounding floor. He's stuck at his waist, the flesh of his hips caught at the edges of the floor’s opening. The black undersuit of the paladin armor is thick enough that the edges aren't hurting him – and the edge of the opening isn't sharp at all, thankfully, which is why Lance tried to do this in the first place.

Actually, was the hole _burned_ through…? With like a laser beam? Or maybe like a lava beam like the Red Lion can make? _Maybe_?

Lance really needs to start thinking through his plans. He makes this resolution about once a month, though, so. Maybe that's another thing he has to work on.

Lance huffs, his gauntlet-clad fingers scrambling on the floor, but there's nothing to _pull_ at to get himself out. This just – really sucks, okay? Shiro’s _not_ gonna be happy.

Shiro’s _also_ Lance’s only source of salvation right now. Which, yeah, _this’ll be fun_ – Lance has always _wanted_ his one true hero, _the_ Takashi Shirogane, ultimate ace space pilot, to catch him in such an embarrassing situation.

A tired sigh escapes his mouth, a little involuntary. Lance stops struggling and slumps over – the edges of the hole are digging into his hips, probably enough to leave bruises through the suit. It's not enough to hurt, but he's pushed up on his tiptoes – it's starting to put strain on his calves, in his thighs, but he can't scoot _back_ to stand flat on his feet!

Lance knocks his head against the floor – Galra military purple, as everything should be. His helmet shields any damage from possible blunt force trauma to the head. Using his lungs to their biggest, bestest capacity, Lance _groans_ in irritation.

It's a good one, too! Loud, and probably enough to incite Shiro’s concern, and also exasperation and disappointment. But, uh, Lance can deal with that. Probably. He means, he usually deals with it?

(According to Hunk, trying not to cry and screaming angrily into his pillow doesn't count as “ _dealing with it._ ” Hunk is a saint and a genius and Lance’s bestest, _bestest_ friend, but Hunk also puked on a kiddie tea cup ride once, so Lance takes it with a grain of salt.)

Shiro’s voice comes through, grainy through the comm system. “ _Lance, I’m almost over there_.”

Oh, _finally_!

Lance squirms a little more – yelps when that just pushes him _forward_. God, there's not even enough space for him to wiggle through the opening and crawl onto the upper floor. His hip bones are keeping him stuck, which, _unfair_ , Lance is kinda a skinny fuck and he'd thought that be _convenient_ in some cases! Especially when sneaking through suspicious openings in abandoned places!

“Ugh, _Shiro_!” Lance whines. “My legs are gettin’ tired!”

He’s still supporting all his weight on the crates – on his toes, and maybe he’d fall through if he kicked the top crate over? Extraterrestrial, glowing green, pincer- and sting-equipped arachnids be damned.

...Actually, maybe not. ET scorpions might actually pose a sharp-clawed, possibly venomous risk. Bristly, spiky things are not _trustworthy_ things, because they are bristly and spiky.

Like Keith. Yeah, Keith _definitely_ falls into that category. Maybe Lance can catch one as a pet for him? And Keith will finally have someone to bond with over shared characteristics – Keith can finally make _friends_!

Lance would be so proud. His spiny, grouchy desert hobbit-gremlin, finally meeting someone who could be a good influence on his life. Lance would cry tears of joy at their wedding.

They grow up _so fast_.

“Lance?” Shiro’s voice comes in through the radio, staticky and unimpressed, but also from _underneath_ him, muffled and exasperated. “Okay, what were you doing this time?”

Lance tries to kick his leg backwards, but he only ends up misbalancing and landing face-first on the floor again. “Was investigatin’,” he mumbles. Pressing his hands flat against the floor, Lance tries to pull himself up again, wiggling his hips to try and force himself out – push himself down or pull himself up, doesn't matter anymore.

Groaning in frustration, Lance kicks his leg backwards.

...only for his boot to _clang_ against something hard and metal where there was previously nothing, and for Shiro’s surprised yelp to ring out in his ears.

Lance squawks, “Oh, shit, sorry Shiro!”

“No, it's fine,” Shiro says, strained. “I shouldn't’ve been so close.”

Lance nods belatedly, despite Shiro not being able to see the motion. Man, at least Shiro had his helmet to protect him...even though Lance didn't even really kick that far...and he kicked _behind himself_ , so Shiro was standing right in front of –

Wait.

“ _Were you staring at my ass_?” Lance yelps out.

Yeah. Uh. Tact, subtlety. Lance doesn't really have those things, even though sometimes he _wishes_ he could, ‘cause apparently that’d make flirting way easier. According to Hunk, at least.

Also, wait, Shiro, his _ultimate spaceflight hero_ , staring at his butt? Oh, god, is Lance just being dumb again? Is this actually happening? Is Shiro secretly a huge pervert, or is this just Lance having a really, _really_ weird dream, which makes _Lance_ the pervert –

“...No! Not like that, I w-was just – ” Oh my god, Shiro’s stammering. “I was just assessing the situation!”

Lance would snicker if he wasn't too busy _freaking the fuck out_. “ _Ass-_ ess my situation?” Oh, welp, yeah, there's definitely a hysterical giggle caught somewhere between those words.

“Okay, enough messing around!” Shiro hisses. Lance faceplants into the floor again, except this time it's entirely on purpose ‘cause _what even_. “I’m just gonna – pull you out.”

“Go for it,” Lance says. He wiggles his toes in his boots, swings his feet back and forth gently. “Try not to spaghettify me.”

“Actually,” Shiro starts. His voice is a little wobbly, like he's gritting his teeth and – god, is he angry? Fuck. Lance didn't wanna make him _mad_ , seriously – ! “Spaghettification is what happens when the gravitational pull of a black hole stretches you towards it. The force is so strong that you're _drastically_ elongated from the side that is closer to the black hole, which is why, um, the scientific name for it is spaghettification. Which can't happen to you if I pull you out, because that's impossible for me. To, uh. Do to you.”

...Lance didn't know Shiro had such strong feelings about spaghettification. Also, Shiro's doing _what_ to him?

“...Yeah, Shiro,” Lance says lightly. “I knew that. I took space science at the Garrison too. Also, I was a total space kid, of _course_ I looked up simulation vids of astronauts getting spaghettified. That was fun.”

“That's an actual thing?” Shiro asks, awed.

“Yeah, duh!” Lance squirms again, because _ugh_ his toes and thighs are starting to feel so fatigued –

And. Uh.

Those are definitely two big, _broad_ palms encasing his hips, thick fingers skimming across his flesh over too many layers of armor and form-fitting suit, a hot-left-cold-right pressure that makes Lance _squeak_ –

And then Shiro _tugs._ Downward, harsh, his fingers almost digging bruises into Lance’s hips –

Lance squeals, “ _ohmygod_ ,” but –

He slips down a little, enough for a little more of his feet to touch the crates. More of his weight is supported in his toes and Lance inhales sharply – his calves are _burning_.

“Sorry,” Shiro breathes out, rapid and a little panicked. “I should've warned you, sorry, sorry. Are you okay?”

“Yep, totally,” Lance says. Except, Shiro’s hands are still firmly on his hips, with his index and middle fingers pressing further into Lance’s stomach. God, his hands are _really_ big, okay – “Um, try again?”

Shiro tries again. Lance isn't even trying to stay upright anymore – but there's nothing for his hands to grip on the upper floor, so he cushions his head on his forearms. And when Shiro _pulls_ – forceful, _gah_ , r-really forceful, those are a _lot_ of bruises that Lance is going to be picking at later, when he's finally alone and it's the middle of their night rotation and he's sitting up panting in bed ‘cause he's too damn _riled up_ to s- _sleep_ –

– a little more of his hips grind downwards, except it _hurts_ in that bruising, throbbing, heart-rending way. Sends a little lightning spike of heat up Lance’s spine, and he _whines_.

“...Lance?”

Lance snorts, ‘cause laughing keeps him from doing something – something _worse_. Making a worse noise. Even though he's always been kind of a giggler when he’s feeling pleased, so, uh, maybe this isn't helping his attempt to look... _innocent_. Yikes. “Sorry, Shiro.”

“Did I hurt you?”

 _Wouldn't mind if you did_ , Lance thinks hysterically. “I’m fine.” But Shiro’s still _holding_ him, and Shiro’s voice is still weird and wobbly and Lance can't tell what it _means_ ‘cause he can't see his _face_ –

“Is…” Shiro pauses awkwardly. “Okay, I'm gonna try one more time, then see if I can get on the upper floor and check if I can pull you up from there.” Tugging at Lance’s hips carefully – not hard this time, more like he's trying to prove a point instead of actually getting Lance out – the motion makes Lance jolt minutely. Shiro says, “Alright, try to go with me when I pull?”

“This is probably the dumbest thing I’ve done this week,” Lance laments. He's done other dumb things this week, of course – ‘cause he's _idiot, goofball_ Lance, he can't help himself.

And Shiro doesn't say anything for a good few seconds.

...But then he snickers.

Lance huffs and bristles up, ignoring the little twist of sourness in his chest. “Shiro! Laugh when I’m _not_ stuck!”

“Sorry,” Shiro placates. Taps his fingers soothingly against Lance’s thigh. “Alright, when I say three.”

“When you say three,” Lance repeats dumbly.

“Whenever you're ready, Lance.”

“I’m always ready!” Lance wiggles his hips more – and, uh, it's quiet, and it only comes in audibly through the comms. A short, frantic inhalation of Shiro’s breath.

…‘cause Lance just shook his ass in Shiro’s face, didn’t he.

Lance groans in annoyance – loud, a little screechy, and maybe kind of craving death. Y’know, that _specific_ , nihilistic, end-seeking tone of voice? Shiro happens to be pretty good at it, actually. Huh.

“Alright, let's go,” Lance grumbles. “Start the countdown, cap’n.”

“One.” Shiro’s fingers tighten around his waist now. “Two.” Lance pushes himself up on his arms, prepares to try and leverage himself down. “ _Three_!”

And Shiro practically _yanks_ him down, right as Lance slips a little further – and Lance goes _tumbling_ down, slipping free of the opening but feeling more bruises cut into his sides as he’s forced out, feet knocking over crates and the sound of Shiro’s surprised yell loud in his ears _and_ his comms.

Shiro ends up falling to the ground, limbs splayed out awkwardly, and Lance...pretty much falls on top of him.

Yeah. Uh, is this a really weird sci-fi porno? It just might be. _Or_ it's Lance’s way-too-active imagination coming up with weird, _weird_ dreams again. Not the run-of-the-mill, forgot-to-wear-pants, teeth-falling-out kind of dreams, no, that's _basic_. Lance once dreamt about being strapped to a rollercoaster death trap with seats made out of trash cans, the tracks made out of various scary-looking alien sex toys, with everything being held together with duct tape and teeth-whitening chewing gum. The whole time the roller coaster was careening towards a giant circus tent made out of lava and fishnets. Which, uh, yep, Lance is the King of Weird Dreams. Someone please give him a crown. Or like, a plastic dollar store medal at least, that'd be nice too.

 _Anyway_!

“Lance, are you okay?” Shiro asks, his voice kinda...strained...and really breathless, like he has a considerable weight on his – _Lance is sitting on his chest oh my god_.

“Sorry, Shiro!” And in his mad dash to let Shiro breathe, Lance basically just clambers into his lap instead.

Lance tries to play it cool, but _oh, god_ , those bruises really _are_ smarting.

Enough to make him tense up, shiver. Enough to make him bite his tongue down on a noise that's not _quite_ pained.

Shiro’s breathing heavily, too, and maybe Lance is shifting too much – he can't stay still, he _can't,_ there’s too _much_ electric potential energy trapped in between the thin layers of his own skin, compressed too _tight_ into his form-fitting undersuit and paladin armor. Lance squirms some more and Shiro’s metal hand lands flat on his waist, automatic and unthinking, and he stops Lance from moving uselessly again.

He also happens to press _down_ , right into a bruise, and Lance’s brain just. Short circuits. _Kaboom_. Game over, motherfucker.

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” Lance gasps out – and god, that's not his voice, _that_ can't be his voice – too raspy and low and shivery and _breathy_ , god, Lance didn't know he could sound like _that_ –

“Oh, shit,” Shiro says behind him, and Lance’s heart stutters and _keeps stuttering_ for a good five and a half seconds, ‘cause _whoops_ , Shiro just _cursed_ while pressed right up against Lance’s back. And he’s moving his hand _away_ , no no no –

“Did I hurt you? Lance?”

"W- _wait_ ," Lance whines. There's a harsh heat rising in his cheeks, frantic and rushing – and his brain _already_ internally combusted, in a lovely, _lovely_ explosion of bad ideas and fireworks, so – that's entirely what Lance is gonna blame his succeeding shitty choices on, pretty much.

He reaches out behind him, desperately pawing for Shiro's metal hand to entwine his fingers with. “Stay there, keep holding me there.” Shiro hisses in a deep inhalation of breath, sharp and constrained, as Lance brings his prosthetic hand to curl over his hip, fingers brushing the side of his stomach where a fresh bruise must be slathered across his heated flesh, just underneath the suit material.

"Okay, now do me a favor," Lance breathes. "And press down a little?"

"What?" Shiro chokes out.

"Just – " Lance chuckles nervously. "Hold on really tightly. Put some back into it. Just testin’ a theory."

The theory that _Lance sure is one massively masochistic ho_.

Shiro's breath stutters, a palpitating movement pressed against Lance's back. Lance can't help but squirm a little more, which, uh –

He kinda ends up _grinding back_ onto Shiro’s thigh, far enough that he feels something stiff poke into the small of his back.

Ha. Haha. _Hahahaha_.

“Is that an alien scorpion with potentially ultra-deadly venom or are you just really happy to see me?” Lance chokes out.

Shiro starts stammering again, which – which is happening _way_ too often, by the way! Shiro’s voice is low and steady and a little gruff but it's _never_ this shaky and it's kinda fucking Lance up, okay?

“I’m so sorry, Lance, I shouldn't’ve – ” and yeah, there's that _hi I’m Takashi Shirogane and I just fucked up_ waver to his voice.

“No, I just – ” Lance laughs hysterically now, for real. “This is _kinda_ fucked up.”

“Agreed,” Shiro says meekly.

“I’m gonna get up now,” Lance says.

Shiro nods – Lance can feel the movement of his helmet behind him. “Okay.”

Lance doesn't get up.

“Did you test your theory?” Shiro asks, after half a minute of silence lined with the dull thrum of the ship’s whirring and functioning.

“Um,” Lance says. He gives himself a harsh pinch, to the soft part of his thigh, and he – actually squeaks. Breathy and high. “Yep. Turns out I’m kinda into pain, especially bruises. More than I expected, at least. Who knew?”

Shiro stops. “Well, self-discovery is always good.” Then he starts doing that voice-wobble thing again, panicky and slightly disapproving. “Wait, _what_?”

Lance feels his cheeks burn. “Anyway!” Yikes yikes yikes _yikes_. “There was like, a whole _bucket_ load of alien scorpions somewhere around here, so – ”

He’s rolling off of Shiro, getting to his feet in a flash. Grins the widest, shiniest, shittiest grin he can manage, throws up a finger gun. “Welp! Don't wanna be poisoned by _those things_!”

“Lance – ” And Lance can _finally_ see Shiro’s face – brows furrowed, cheeks flushed pretty pink, pale lips pursed cutely. He's clenching and unclenching his fists awkwardly. Fuck. “Lance, I think we should talk about what just – ”

Lance looks behind Shiro, to where a small swarm of glowing chartreuse ET death arthropods are gathering a few feet behind him. “Sure thing, glorious leader. Wasn't lying ‘bout the scorpions, though.”

“What – ?” Shiro looks at where Lance points, and, oh, _wow_ , that blush pales out _real_ quick. “Oh, oh god, okay, just – ” Shiro scrambles to his feet, prosthetic hand glowing violet.

“They're not attacking, or anything,” Lance points out, but Shiro huffs.

“Let’s just – get back to the castle. There's nothing here,” he says this steadily, still staring wide-eyed at the scorpions.

They – haven't even checked the upper floor, yet, but Lance blearily remembers Keith at one point, snickering and mentioning Shiro’s tendency to have Keith kill spiders for him.

Huh.

“Alright.” Lance flashes a grin, a little more genuine but a little more purposely insufferable, too. “Whatever you say, boss-man!”

Shiro can only choke out some mumbled words in reply. Some dark, messy inner part of Lance languishes in satisfaction as each movement makes his bruises throb a little bit, as residual fatigue slinks through his limbs – pleasant, makes his head feel a little breezy. But Lance decides to give a Shiro a break.

...Lance, well, he still isn’t 100% sure that this isn't some really, _really_ wild dream, but hooray for self-discovery, right?

_Yikes._


	2. schrodinger's experiment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i cant believe im back with this shitpost 
> 
> ....and uh chapter 3 is gonna be smut. gonna get that proper pain kink in. just be patient with me plz

“Did you _really_ have to bring that thing along?” Shiro deadpans, as though he can hide his wary glances at the glass containment unit in Lance’s hands with, like, _persistent_ disapproving apathy. Thing is, he can’t hide it. He really can’t. Shiro is totally see-through, like aquarium glass, holding in the rush of stress-water and deep-swimming fear-sharks that lurk behind his transparent walls.

Well, that’s fine – Lance loves aquariums! Lance’s two oldest sisters once took him to the aquarium when he was a little kid, and that was – the _best_. _Thing. Ever._ He even got to pet the tiny nurse sharks and everything!

But, uh, thinking ‘bout his sisters – ugh. _Not_ the time for the Sadness Train. It’s _never_ the time for the Sadness Train. Sadness isn’t even on the goddamn train schedule. If it were, it’d be that last 1am train where would-be kidnappers wait in the shadows to grab and steal away unsuspecting teenagers who accidentally stayed out too long.

 _Never get on the Sadness Train_.

“And you’re still taking it back to the castle,” Shiro grumbles under his breath. They’re still walking through the abandoned Galra ship – numerous scorpions left behind on the floor below them, when Shiro decided to cut the hole in the ceiling wider, enough for Lance to _actually_ fit through, enough for _Shiro_ to fit through. Lance was too busy using one of Pidge’s containment units to catch the tinier space-arachnid hiding in the corner, separated from the rest of its hissy, drooling brethren.

Seriously, these things are – harmless, at least when contained. Shiro’s reaction is kinda cute, like, _I need you to kill spiders for me_ cute, and, like, Lance spent a good half of his childhood in Cuba, and then the second half in Florida, and then he went to Middle-of-the-Fucking-Desert, Texas to study at the Garrison. Meaning, Lance is _plenty_ experienced in dealing with creepy crawlies and venomous bugs and random lizards falling from the ceiling and onto his bed. And, like, Lance might’ve been that one kid who caught butterflies in glass jars (and accidentally suffocated them, oh, _god_ , he cried so _hard_ and he’s still _really really sorry_ – ) and shoved dragonflies into the other kids’ faces.

(Sorry, Emilia, from third grade. Lance didn’t _mean_ to make her cry, it’s just – the dragonfly was really pretty, okay? Like she was. He was trying to be charming, seriously.)

He says he was a space kid, but Lance was also very much a _bug_ kid.

Point is, Lance can kill as many spiders as Shiro needs him to.

Or, maybe he can’t kill them, because spiders are mostly friends, but he can at least take them outside! Or, in the case of Operation Keith’s New Friend™, then Lance can keep said arachnid trapped inside a jar.

No big deal, Lance is this heroic on a regular basis.

...If only Shiro was actually into it. Lance’s heroics, that is. As in, Lance’s _generous_ effort to help Keith make friends. And also protect Shiro from space arthropods.

Well, the scorpions seem mostly harmless, at least on the same level as regular old desert Earth scorpions that Lance always found in Hunk’s shoes back at the Garrison Academy – always _Hunk’s_ shoes, specifically, the poor guy. Okay, _well_ , maybe in the case of extraterrestrial space scorpions, their saliva is acidic or something – wait, _wait wait wait_ , is that why there was that hole in the ceiling? Could that be how these things entered the ship? Lance is pretty _sure_ the ship is airlocked, but maybe they got in through a damaged part of the ship – but then they got into a part of the ship that actually _is_ airlocked, so, like, why is it _still_ airlocked – well, whatever, this is just a working theory –

Anyway! Lance just had to catch Keith’s friend in one of Pidge and Coran’s specially-designed life-containment units – they’re contractible and everything! – and then Shiro grabbed Lance by the waist and basically just _tossed him up_ through the hole in the ceiling, onto the upper floor.

(And, um, uh, oh, _gosh_ , that set Lance’s lungs alight with fire, left his chest burning with the way he tried to suppress his squeal and _other_ bad, terrible, no-good noises that Shiro probably wouldn’t think were sexy on a good day – or any day ever, because Lance _knows_ his voice can be annoying and loud and raspy, and Lance _knows_ that he has to keep his mouth shut with his own shirt fabric shoved ‘tween his teeth while he jerks off, and like why would Shiro _ever_ actually _want_ to hear Lance make weird noises like _that_?)

Anyway, anyway, _whatever_ , whatever – Shiro followed Lance up, then dragged him through into the next room, Shiro’s hands clutching tight at Lance’s shoulders as he literally _steered_ him to the next door, Lance’s knees all wobbly and his own arms clutched tight ‘round ET’s containment jar, and then Shiro _seriously like literally_ slammed his metal hand against the switch to close the door, before any of Keith’s new brethren could climb up to follow them.

It’s – it’s kinda _funny_? To see Shiro so off-put, almost petulant, kinda temperamental – kinda like when he had to rescue Slav and _completely lost his shit_. Except, apparently, Slav’s not the only eight-legged creature Shiro has a distaste for.

Lance pauses. Wait, no, Slav has _eight arms_ and two legs, ten limbs in total – _wait, shit, Lance just had a really good joke to say about Shiro and eight-legged things, fuck, he can’t use it now_ –

“I made a mistake,” Lance laments.

“Yes, you did,” Shiro immediately agrees, which, uh, _rude_. Lance pouts at him until Shiro sharply looks away.

Lance shrugs. “It was just something in my head, I got mixed up thinking ‘bout it.” He taps a finger gently against the glass, watches the scorpion-like creature shudder and spin in a circle. “Anyway! I was gonna name her Francesca, but she's way too hissy. Doesn’t suit her. I _guess_ I should let Keith choose the name, ‘cause I want him to make friends.”

Shiro pauses. “You’re keeping that thing so Keith can become friends with it.”

Lance puffs out his chest in pride. “ _Exactly_.” He looks back at the scorpion. “How ‘bout Eduarda?”

“Lance.”

“Angelica?”

“ _Lance_.”

“ _Fine_ , I _guess_ I’ll let Keith name it.” Lance grins at Shiro’s blank look. “But his name wouldn’t do this lovely critter _nearly_ enough justice. She’s a pretty lady who deserves a pretty name!” Lance coos at the creature through the glass. “Right, Franny?”

“I thought you weren’t naming it Francesca,” Shiro says.

“True, Catalina is better,” Lance says. Then, because he’s an idiot, and ‘cause he pretends to be proud of it, and ‘cause he pretends to be proud of it ‘cause he’s actually a _fucking dumbass_ , Lance says, “And this is really all just a diversion tactic,” because he’s _stupid_.

Shiro pauses, looks back at Lance. He’d been walking ahead the whole time, a good couple of feet of distance between them, but now he’s turning back to Lance with his mouth set into a frown and his cheeks tinted up just the slightest pretty pink. Pretty Princess Peach Pink. Allura rocks it but Shiro fuckin’ _kills it_.

“A diversion tactic?” Shiro asks, like he doesn’t know what Lance is talking about, which, uh, _clearly untrue_ , because Shiro is blushing like the virgin he probably isn’t.

 _Probably_. Lance wasn’t, like, a _stalker_ at the Garrison or anything, back when he was pining after super cool astronaut Takashi Shirogane, ‘cause let’s be _real_ astronauts are the most endearing and attractive human beings one can find (Lance may or may not have had some level of crush-like fascination with Yuri Gagarin and Sally Ride and Arnaldo Tamayo Méndez – _not his fault_ , by the way, Lance kinda has a crush on _everyone_ – but whatever.) Anyway, well, okay, Lance really _really_ wasn’t a stalker, he swears it, even if Hunk says something different, but like, Lance never noticed Shiro, y’know. _Gettin’ freaky_ with anyone.

But just because Lance didn’t know about it, doesn’t mean it never happened? Because Lance wasn’t a stalker, and it’s not like Hunk lies, Hunk just _exaggerates._ And like, honestly, there must be many, many, _many_ people who’d happily get down and dirty for a man like Takashi Shirogane. Like, get down on the floor, scrape up their knees as they take the head of Shiro’s surely-attractive cock into their mouth.

Many people, including and also especially Lance, who has. No fucking shame. _Yikes_. Yikes times ten. No, times twenty. Yikes to the twenty-three.

“I got bruised up?” Lance says, slightly-hysterical laughter clinging to his words. “Oh, man, I got _bruised up_. It still kinda smarts when I walk, but not really.”

Shiro rubs at his helmet with his left hand – the flesh one. It’s kinda funny, it’s kinda _cute_ , because Lance has seen Shiro run his fingers through his own hair and now his helmet is blocking it and Shiro seems so _distraught_ about it. Lance can’t help but giggle.

“I’m really sorry ‘bout that,” Shiro says. “If I pulled too hard – but at least I got you out?”

“Exactly,” Lance says, blinking up at him. Shiro’s face looks – strained, and Lance slumps, turning his eyes to the floor. Galra military aesthetic, as it should be. At least the aesthetic is always reliable. “Don't be sorry, man. _I’m_ sorry.”

“What?”

Lance whines in irritation – he _would_ throw his arms up, but he has to keep Keith’s friend safe and settled.

“I – got all gross on you! All, _yes space daddy, hurt me more_ – which, uh, where was your consent? Where was the _permission_? Also, yikes, who said I could be so TMI?” Lance rambles.

“What,” Shiro says flatly. At Lance’s wide-eyed, flustered look, Shiro tries to smile warmly instead, except it's kinda _tense_ and _forced_ and – why does Shiro look scared when he fake-smiles? – ugh. He _definitely_ thinks Lance is gross as hell. Which, uh, not untrue, _Lance_ thinks Lance is gross as hell.

There's a pulsing heat rushing up in Lance’s ears, thankfully hidden in his helmet. “I wasn't making it up before! I dunno, I like it, I like the way bruises feel, I’d – I’d probably like it if someone roughed me up a _lot_ , if I asked them to. I mean! It's not _that_ weird, p-plenty of people are probably...into that...” he trails off, giggling nervously.

Lance can't help but shuffle back and forth on his feet, tensing and untensing his stomach just to feel his bruises throb. His fingers twitch against the life-containment unit.

“I got all gross on you, too,” Shiro says suddenly. “I mean, um – it was totally inappropriate for me to – react like that.”

This is the worst. This is actually the worst.

“Right,” Lance babbles.

This is actually, literally, seriously, _absolutely the worst_.

“Well,” says Shiro. “As long as you stay safe. No, um, rushing into situations where you might get hurt just for the sake of getting hurt.”

“I’m not _Keith_ ,” Lance whines. Shiro gives him a _look_ , lowkey exasperated and still a little – flustered, _hi I’m Shiro and I have no idea how to deal with this_ , brows furrowed and mouth twitching awkwardly.

Did Lance say this was the worst yet?

_BECAUSE THIS IS THE WORST._

“This is fine,” Lance says, like his house is burning down in flames around him, because his brain? Wow, it’s not there anymore. Disappeared in a puff of fucking _smoke_. Gone. _Abracadabra_. Fell into the magic rabbit hat and _won’t come back out_. He always knew being a magician would’ve been a perfect backup plan, if he really couldn’t be a fighter pilot.

Except, no, the new backup plan is _Defender of the Universe_ , except it’s literally the exact opposite of a backup plan, and it means Lance gets to wrangle alien creepy crawlies and blush about his hero-crush on a daily basis. Which, fun. And also _terrible_.

“Right,” says Shiro. He clears his throat. It’s like Shiro wrote the goddamn WikiHow article on _How to be Awkward_ , because he’s hitting _every step on the goddamn list_.

“...Okay, so maybe I liked your hands on me,” Lance admits, fully shielding his face from view with the container so Shiro can't look at him. Also, so Shiro can stare into the thirteen (Lance counted) beady eyes of Priscilla the Space Scorpio, and he can _regret_ ever trying to have this conversation with Lance.

...Except Lance might've started this conversation. Fuck, he doesn't _remember_ , he's worrying about more important things, okay?!

Are they even having a _coherent_ conversation anymore? There's no way in hell anything still makes sense.

“Alright,” Shiro starts, turning his head and looking Lance _right in the eye, what the fuck is he doing_. “We’re heading back to the ship now. _Right now_.”

“Yes, sir,” Lance yelps, ‘cause – god, Shiro’s voice is just _naturally commanding_ , okay, what else can he even _say_ , he can't help it –

Shiro stares blankly at him. Lance stares back, feeling very, _very_ judged.

“We’re ignoring this, right?” His voice comes out as a squeak and he can't even _care_ anymore.

“We’re ignoring this,” Shiro confirms.

So, uh, yeah. That happened.

**Author's Note:**

> plz talk to me on twitter [@redspacelights](https://twitter.com/REDSPACELIGHTS) bc i really want friends


End file.
